things I can't shake

I hope it rains tomorrow.

People keep asking me "what's next?" and I tell them I don't know, because all I really want is a chance to stop and look around.

Last Wednesday a baby laid her head on my chest and cried quiet, slow tears. I traced my fingers up and down her spine, and rocked, back and forth, trying to soothe her with the rhythm of my breathing. She felt so fragile resting in the curve of my elbow.

Last Saturday my best friend called and we talked for a while. He mentioned that he had read an article recently in which the authors advised new husbands to tell their wives every day that they are capable, beautiful, and loved. "Every day! Isn't that ridiculous?" he said. "That's baloney."

On Sunday, a boy I had a past with wrote me to say happy birthday. We started talking a little. He still remembers exactly what I told him the last time we met. That was always his way: he noticed things I never meant for him to notice, and remembered everything.

On Monday I had two pieces published in a magazine, and it gave me a kick I'd forgotten. It inspired an echo in the back of my mind. It's the same question I can't get away from: what's next? What's next?
(Think very hard. Reevaluate.)

Today is Tuesday. I am twenty years old. I have three holes punched into each ear, and small silver scars on the second knuckle of each hand. Am I fragile? Am I beautiful? I want to be beautiful.

Maybe it will rain tomorrow.

to-do list for May

• think very hard
• reevaluate
• eat raspberries
• take stock of the milestones